Midnight Dolls

by Kiki Sullivan

  He sighs. “About my dad and how he failed your mom.”

  “No, of course not,” I reply. Caleb has told me before that his father always blamed himself for letting my mother die, since he was charged with protecting her. “Why would you think he was telling me that?”

  He looks away. “It’s what your dad wanted to talk to me about yesterday, just before you were attacked.” He draws a deep breath. “He blames my family, Eveny, and he hates me because of it. Maybe you should too.”

  “My dad doesn’t hate you,” I say, although instantly, I wonder if I’m right. “And whatever happened with our parents, that shouldn’t have anything to do with me and you.”

  Caleb is silent for a long time. “Eveny, my dad broke the rules fourteen years ago, and your mom wound up dead because of it,” he says finally. “She was murdered because my dad wasn’t there to protect her, whether you want to admit that or not. And within a year, he was dead too—because of the curse that hangs over the head of every protector if he lets his queen die. That’s why we can’t break the rules, Eveny. That’s why it was so stupid of me to kiss you or to think we could ever be together. That’s why it doesn’t matter what I feel for you and what you feel for me. You want to wind up dead like them? Because I don’t.”

  “They’re not dead because they broke the rules,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.

  “How can you say that?” Caleb replies immediately. “My dad was supposed to be keeping guard outside your house the night your mom died, okay? But he wasn’t there.”

  “It’s not his fault,” I say, trying to cut the story off.

  But Caleb shakes his head vigorously and continues. “Yes, it was. And it was mine too. I was really sick that night. I had a high fever, and my dad was worried about me, so his mind wasn’t on his responsibilities. Before your mom performed the ceremony with Peregrine’s and Chloe’s moms, she insisted that my dad go home. She told him to go be with his family, to go care for his son.”

  “Caleb—” I say, but he just keeps talking.

  “By the time my dad got home, my fever had spiked to a hundred and five. My mother had also gotten very sick and was too delirious to realize that I needed to go to the hospital. I would have died if my father hadn’t come home when he did.”

  “So he saved your life.”

  “Maybe, but because he came back for me, he wasn’t there to protect your mother. I lived, but your mother died.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “That wasn’t your dad’s fault. And it definitely wasn’t yours.”

  He turns to me with a desperate look in his eyes. “But it was. There’s no escaping that. I’m so sorry, Eveny. So sorry.” Caleb shakes his head. “He left Carrefour in shame because he couldn’t live with what he’d done.”

  “I’m sorry about your dad,” I say, reaching out to touch Caleb’s arm. “But you and me, it’s not the same.”

  “Of course it is! Don’t you see? My dad put love—love for me and my mom—before his duties. He ruined his own life and your mother’s because of one selfish decision. I’m not going to put you in the same kind of danger my dad put your mom in. Ever.”

  “But it’s different, Caleb,” I say. “He couldn’t have known what was about to happen.”

  Caleb pulls away from me. “Try to understand where I’m coming from. You’re in danger, and all I care about right now is keeping you safe. Whatever happened between us—whatever feelings we have for one another—it has to be over. All of it. Your dad’s right.”

  “No, he’s not,” I protest. “You want to know what I was out there talking to him about? It was about how he and my mom broke all the rules to fall in love. They were never supposed to be together either.”

  Caleb stares at me for a long time, and when he folds his hands over mine, I’m sure he’s going to say that he sees my point of view. He leans forward and kisses me softly on the lips, but when he pulls back, his eyes are filled with sadness. “I can’t. It doesn’t matter how I feel. What matters is you staying alive. I’m sorry.”

  He walks away without looking back.

  That evening, I avoid Caleb’s gaze as we all follow Diane and my father down a long hall and into a large ceremonial room that reminds me of the parlor where my mother used to perform zandara in my house. Even though I know Caleb’s heart is in the right place, I still feel rejected. Knowing I’m apparently so easy to stop caring about hurts.

  As we enter the room, Diane touches my father’s arm and says something in his ear. He smiles and whispers back, and I’m struck again by the easy familiarity between the two of them.

  “Want to light the candles while I get the fireplace going, Eveny?” Simon asks, appearing at my elbow and smiling kindly at me.

  “Sure,” I say, taking a long, antique-looking tinder lighter from him. I move around the room quickly until all the candles are flickering, and then I rejoin the group.

  My father is in the midst of apologetically telling Caleb, Oscar, Patrick, and their fathers that they’ll need to step out of the room, along with Diane, Shelly, and Veronica. “We feel our collective presence will be stronger if the only people in the room are those with magical abilities,” he says.

  Caleb shoots me a look before ducking out, followed by the other protectors. Shelly and Veronica trail behind them, and Diane rolls her eyes dramatically as she strides out of the room. The door closes heavily.

  “Now,” my father says, “shall we get started?”

  “Wait,” Peregrine’s mother says. “How exactly do you plan to execute this charm? I don’t see what good we’ll do here.”

  “You’re right,” my father says. “But Eveny’s going to need your moral support. This will be her first time working with andaba, and knowing you’re behind her will help, I think.”

  I feel even more uncomfortable than I did before, but my dad’s right. It’s hard to focus when I feel like the two sides of my heritage are at odds.

  “Fine,” Peregrine’s mother mutters. “But let’s make this quick.”

  “Good luck,” Chloe says, giving me a small smile as she, Peregrine, and their mothers take seats along the wall.

  “Thanks,” I say as my father, Simon, George, and I form a circle.

  “Just follow along,” my father says, squeezing my hand. “Trust me.” He takes a deep breath and says, “Guardabarrera, ¿está usted ahí?”

  The other two men chant, “Dejarnos entrar, señor. Dejarnos entrar.”

  As soon as they’re done speaking, there’s a whoosh of wind, and the air changes in the room. I’m accustomed to the air pressure feeling heavier with the presence of a spirit, but this time, it seems to get lighter and crisper.

  “Okay, Eveny,” my father says. “Try to focus your energies toward the center of the room.” He takes a bowl from the table and approaches the fire and begins to chant.

  “Oh lonely warriors, spirits of the sea,

  Hear our cry, accept our plea.

  With grave dirt and muerte dust our passage fee;

  With the strength of our hearts, we call out to thee.”

  He throws a handful of dark dust from the bowl into the fireplace, and as Simon and George repeat his words, he raises the bowl to his mouth and blows the rest of the dust into the flames. He steps back just as the room begins filling with sweet-smelling white smoke.

  “What’s happening?” Chloe asks from behind me, her voice sounding very far away.

  I don’t know the answer, but I realize I’m not frightened. There’s something about the smoke that comforts me, as if from a long-lost memory.

  But I’m completely unprepared for what happens next. The kings step forward and, using small pocketknives, each of them pricks his own index finger and squeezes a drop of blood into the fire. The smoke swirls more and more quickly until it’s collected in the center of the room. It takes on the shape of a small tornado at first, but as it whirls, it begins to develop features that look human. Soon, I can make out the faintest outline of
a man’s face in the spinning smoke. “I am here,” a male voice with a strong accent hisses from the cloud.

  Peregrine screams, and George says quietly, “It’s okay. It’s a friendly spirit we deal with often.”

  “Captain Cabrillo, commander of the Nuestra Mujer del Mar,” my father begins in a booming voice. “We reach out to you to ask for your protection and your intervention on our behalf.”

  “Matthiasssssssss,” the voice hisses. I can see the lips of the foggy figure moving slowly. “We receive your súplica, your petición. On whose behalf do you make this plea?”

  “On behalf of my sosyete, and the sosyetes of Carrefour.”

  “Carrefour?” The cloud swirls before the voice adds, “Your daughter. She is here?”

  “Yes, Captain Cabrillo, she is here.” My father nods at me, and I take a half step forward. I hold my breath as the face of the spirit materializes in front of me.

  “Eveny,” the spirit says. “Gusto en conocerla. It is nice to meet you after so many years of su padre talking of you.”

  “I—it’s nice to meet you too,” I say, trying not to sound as freaked out as I feel.

  “I understand you are in need of my assistance,” he says.

  “Yes, sir,” I reply. I draw a shaky breath. “Main de Lumière is after me, as well as my sister queens and my brother kings. We need as much protection as we can get right now. Please, sir, we’d appreciate anything you can do to help us.”

  The cyclonic mist shakes a little, and it takes me a moment to realize the spirit is laughing. “Such a humble request,” he says. “Very well, Eveny. I am sure you know the limitations of those of us in the spirit world. We can intervene in human affairs, but only to a small degree. So we will look after you and your friends to the best of our abilities. But our protection can only buy you time. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  “Muy bien,” the spirit says. “Matthias, you are here?”

  “I am here, Captain,” my father says right away.

  “I will leave you the doubloons for José de Mateo, on your shore at dawn. I trust you will see him through?” The mist moves in my father’s direction.

  “Yes, Captain,” my father says. “It shall be done.”

  “Muy bien. Then I wish you buenas noches and sueños del cielo, dreams of heaven.”

  “And to you, Captain,” my father says.

  “Dreams of heaven . . . to me?” the spirit asks. The swirling cloud turns darker as he hisses, “But surely you know I am headed to hell.”

  And with that, the smoke and the sound of his laughter whisk toward the fireplace and up the chimney. He’s gone before I can blink, and then the candles all flicker out at once and the air pressure in the room returns to normal.

  “What the—?” Peregrine’s voice sounds terrified in the darkness. “What was that?”

  There’s the sound of a match striking, and my father’s face appears behind the dancing light of a flame.

  “That,” he says, “was Captain Cabrillo, the commander of a Spanish galleon that sank off the Georgia coast in 1622. Fifty-six of the crew members aboard were trapped in the nether. When andaba was founded, the spirits our ancestors reached out to were all buried in watery graves, like the crew of Nuestra Mujer del Mar, Captain Cabrillo’s ship. Most of the spirits we’ve dealt with over the years are of Spanish descent, so our charms have evolved with Spanish words and phrases. For a very long time now, Cabrillo has been assisting us, in exchange for our helping his crew cross over from the nether to a true afterlife.”

  I exchange looks with the others. “So that was really the ghost of Cabrillo?” Chloe asks.

  My father nods. “I know that in zandara, spirits can only talk through humans, in possession ceremonies. But because andaba uses grave dirt, we’re able to reach a bit further into the nether and get the spirits to actually materialize.”

  “What was the other kind of dust you threw into the fire?” I ask.

  “Muerte dust,” my father says. “Ashes and several other ingredients mixed with the ground bones of sea turtles. They help us to cross the line between land and ocean, life and death.”

  “Turtle bones?” Peregrine says.

  My father is quick to clarify, “We respect turtles as much as you respect snakes, I promise. We only harvest their bones once they’re dead. In andaba, we see it as their final spiritual gift to us.”

  “Ew,” Peregrine says. “It’s still gross.”

  My father shrugs. “Every magical tradition uses different elements, Peregrine. Some might say your reliance on a snake is disturbing.” He glances at Audowido before turning to me. “And now we must pay the price for Cabrillo’s help. We must assist his sailor José de Mateo in crossing out of the nether.”

  “How do we do that?” I ask.

  “Cabrillo leaves us doubloons from his sunken ship, and we use it to pay other spiritual gatekeepers,” he says. He glances at me. “But leave that to us. Perhaps it’s time for you to get some rest.”

  I suddenly realize that I’m exhausted. “I feel like I’m about to collapse.”

  My father smiles, but there’s sadness in his eyes. “It’s because it was your first time communicating with the spirit world using andaba,” he says. “The first time is always the hardest on your system. And you did very well, Eveny. You’ve proven what I long suspected: your andaba abilities are strong.

  “Unfortunately, that means that Main de Lumière’s fears are true,” my father concludes, looking at me with a strange blend of fear and pride. “You could be the most powerful queen the world has ever known.”

  7

  That night I dream of shipwrecks and storms, of gold coins washing up on deserted beaches, and of the bones of sailors who died centuries ago.

  When I awaken, I realize that Peregrine, who’s sharing a bed with me, is already up, staring at the ceiling. Chloe is still fast asleep on an air mattress on the floor.

  “Morning,” Peregrine says without looking at me. “Bad dream?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You were thrashing around like a mental patient.”

  I apologize for waking her, but she waves me off. “It wasn’t you. I woke up on my own. I’ve got to say, I’m pretty freaked out by everything here. That andaba ceremony . . . it just wasn’t right.”

  “Because they got the ghost of the captain to actually appear to us?”

  “I guess. It just feels strange. I always thought we were running a big risk by inviting spirits to take over our bodies in zandara. But at least we have some control over the situation.”

  I shrug and wait for her to go on. I’m surprised to hear her expressing any kind of concern about zandara, which she has, so far, seemed to adore wholeheartedly.

  “But in andaba,” she says, “the way they actually bring the spirit back, well, it’s weird. I mean, spirits aren’t supposed to be able to bring their physical forms back from the dead with them, are they?”

  I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “Just because we don’t do it in zandara doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Maybe we can learn something from andaba about what’s possible.”

  “But doesn’t it make you uneasy?”

  “Not exactly. It makes me wonder what else I don’t know yet.”

  Peregrine goes to take a shower, so I step over Chloe and head downstairs to the kitchen in my T-shirt and pajama pants. My father is standing at the stove flipping pancakes when I walk in. “Hi, honey,” he says. “I thought I’d get some breakfast started. How are you doing?”

  I shrug.

  “The ceremony last night worried you a bit, didn’t it?” he asks. When I nod, he adds, “You know, that’s the first time we’ve seen Captain Cabrillo so clearly in a very long time.”

  “Really? How come?”

  “The more kings we have performing a ceremony, the stronger we are. For a long time now, it has just been Simon, George, and me, and occasionally Simon’s son. With you here too, we w
ere able to call on Captain Cabrillo much more effectively.”

  “What about the other kings in my generation?”

  “George’s son won’t be seventeen until next month, so he’s not casting with us yet. And Simon’s son, well, he was getting ready for a trip yesterday. But you’ll meet him today.” He pauses, and a shadow crosses his face. “There’s one more andaba king alive right now. My father.”

  “Wait,” I say, my heart suddenly thudding. “Your father is still alive? I have a grandfather?” All these years, it was just Aunt Bea and me. Now, with my father’s return and the revelation that I have a living grandparent, I’ve effectively doubled my family in less than three weeks.

  My father nods. “Up until about a year ago, he was here with us, which made us much stronger, since he’s a very powerful king.”

  “So where did he go? Will I get to meet him soon?”

  “He was diagnosed with lung cancer last year,” my father says. “Just like zandara, andaba has very strict rules about kings not extending their own lives. The only possibility of real treatment was for him to move to the mainland, see an oncologist, and begin chemotherapy.”

  “So he’s in a hospital somewhere?”

  My father frowns. “It’s been a long time since anyone here on Caouanne Island has heard from him. He kept us updated through the first two rounds of chemo, and then he stopped calling about six months ago. Last I heard, he was trying to track down a few leads on Main de Lumière.”

  “You don’t think he died, do you?” I ask, my heart plummeting.

  “No,” he says firmly. “In andaba, we always know when a king has perished. The sky turns black on the day of his death, and the leaves all fall from the island’s trees.”

  “So why hasn’t he been in touch with you?” I ask.

  A muscle in my father’s jaw twitches. “After I married your mother, everything changed between us. I think he felt like I’d betrayed him by leaving. Unfortunately, our relationship has been strained since then.”

  I stare at my dad, feeling suddenly guilty. “Was he mad at you because you had a child with someone outside of Caouanne Island?”